


Candy Canes and Finger Kisses

by sugar_star



Series: Haikyuu!! x Reader [2]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Anxiety, Foreign Exchange Student Ushiwaka!, Gender-neutral Reader, I mean they aren't that bad, Other, Reader-Insert, i love wakawaka, i wrote part of this at work, it's super self indulgent, self-harm (minor), there are swear words but, we in 'murica now friend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-22
Updated: 2016-11-22
Packaged: 2018-09-01 10:49:34
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,923
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8621611
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sugar_star/pseuds/sugar_star
Summary: I was having a bad day at work, and needed something to focus on instead of all the people so I write like, the first fifth of it there but I wanted to continue it. I love Ushiwaka, he needs more love.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I was having a bad day at work, and needed something to focus on instead of all the people so I write like, the first fifth of it there but I wanted to continue it. I love Ushiwaka, he needs more love.

He showed up everyday at one o'clock in the afternoon. A foreign exchange student attending the college in the city just off the highway from the department store you worked at. he had been coming in at one in the afternoon for what seemed like forever, probably only a few months in reality, but it seemed like forever just because it was something for you to look forward to. Apparently, he was from Japan. A tiny prefecture outside of Tokyo, he had mentioned once during what became your daily routine, lest you worked after one. The routine? He'd come in at about one or so, sometimes with a very loud red head for a friend, walk around the store for about thirty minutes, give or take, and then get the same thing everyday before heading to whichever register you were at. Some kind of instant udon noodles, he mentioned once that they vaguely reminded him on home. it didn't matter how long your lines were, either. He'd wait and wait, sometimes you talked, sometimes you didn't, and then he would leave with a tiny smile and a bow which you would teasingly copy much to his embarrassment.

Today would have been just like any other day at one o'clock in the afternoon, had you not been up all night with a wicked bout of insomnia. The fact that you had work early didn't help, you felt your feet drag every other step, you were a little paler than usual, your hair combed yet disheveled enough to make it look like you'd simply rolled out of bed. coupled with the holiday season and the wicked long lines that started at nine in the morning, you were well beyond done with the day already, and the nasty anxiety you'd managed to shovel aside for a couple months was quick to worm it's way back into the forefront of your everyday tasks. Your hands shook from the clumsy bangs and bumps to the newly exposed skin, the anxiety causing your nervous quirk to pick up again where you would tear at your fingers until the skin was fresh and pink and hurt whenever anything so much as brushed it like a feather. Unfortunately, you smashed them into metal, which hurt a hell of a lot more than feathers.

You didn't have a particular reason to be anxious, no one really got irritated at you, you were a good worker. Did your job well enough. though the never ending lines of people were probably the only cause of it. That was enough on it's own. You didn't really care for human contact of any kind, never had. But it was part of being an adult, even if you hated it with every nervous fiber of your being. Whenever you had finished scanning everything and the customers started to pay, you'd pull at your fingers and scratch at the skin like there was an itch that just wouldn't ease. Then you'd stop, smile a smile that was probably just a little too fake, and start on the next person. It was the same everyday. Just today was worse, and more forced, and you hated it.

You had seen him walk in at one. The lines were long, you could have sworn he was going to at least try and go through express. it would make sense to, he bought maybe two things a day. It kind of made you feel a little lonely, that he probably wasn't going to come say hello. It was busy, though, and you weren't going to be able to chat with his one to two items only taking a few seconds of your time. It was silly to think that way, but today you could have used the nice silence, calming air and the silly bow he couldn't seem to break the habit of doing. You decided to focus on steadying your sore fingers into cooperating with what you needed them to do.

A few customers down the line and one of the managers for the front end came up to you, flicked the button to turn off your light and send you to lunch. You took a peek at your phone. One forty. you hadn't seen him yet, maybe he was already gone for the day. You refused to let the nasty thoughts your anxiety was making up bother you as you turned your attention back to the older couple. They were nice, trying to engage you in a light conversation that was comfortable and didn't require much effort. Something about it being busy, if you were glad to be getting a break now. You smiled and gave them quick answers in a soft voice, it seemed to be enough. You sent them on their way soon enough with a slightly more genuine smile before remembering the manager hadn't taken your closed sign to the end of your lane. During busy days no one really looked at the lights and if they were on or not, so you handed the sign to the nice old lady and asked her quietly if she could place it behind her things. A regular customer was always nice to end on, but when you looked toward the end of the lane you blinked.

He had shown up after all, peering down the aisle with his cup of instant noodles in his hand. You gave him a probably far too chipper smile and waved him down, one more person wouldn't hurt. The little lady in front of you took a steady glance between the two of you as he walked down, giving a small wave in greeting, and smiled. She took to leaning over the belt to whisper, "You have a very nice looking boyfriend."

Your cheeks immediately turned a dark scarlet, trying to quietly tell her that wasn't the case. but old ladies were stubborn and she gave a little laugh before sifting through her bag for some money. You tried not to look over at him, he was probably staring into the candy shelves like usual. He did that a lot, you'd told him once that it made you uncomfortable when people stared at you because they wouldn't look anywhere else.

It didn't take much longer to ring out the older lady's things, and she dared to give you a wink and another little laugh before slowly walking away from the register. A sigh escaped you, she was always such a troublemaker. When you reached over to grab the no doubt awaiting cup of udon noodles, your sorely torn up fingers grazed a flimsy rectangular box. Your eyebrows pulled together as your eyes followed your hands to find a pack of candy canes next to the usual cup of noodles. You raised your eyebrow along with the candy canes and grinned.

"You have a sweet tooth now?" you asked teasingly, wiggling the box at the taller man before scanning it and setting it into the bag. He didn't say anything while you scanned the noodles, but the tanned skin of his cheeks seemed to darken a bit. You had to fight back a giggle, it was cute seeing a very tall, some would say brooding man blushing about buying holiday candy.

"Are you heading to break?" He gestured to the light that was now off, avoiding the question entirely.

You hummed a response, taking the money he had handed you for his things. "Lunch, actually."

He looked thoughtful, and for a moment you thought you saw him turn a bit redder. When you handed him his change with a smile and he had grabbed his bag as you ducked under the register to gather your things, he spoke. "Would you like to join me on your lunch, then?"

That was when was when you rhead promptly kissed the edge of the counter in your hasty jolt to stand. You bit back a violent swear, hand reflexively grabbed at the back of your head. When you stood, he looked worried but was still standing where he had been. You heard a coworker snicker from behind you and you felt like dissolving into the floor. Swallowing the lump that had gathered in your throat, you gathered up your things into your arms, tugging your jacket on, shooting a wry glance his way. "Don't you have classes in the afternoon?"

"No, I prefer early morning or night classes. My afternoon's are usually free." His lips pursed into a tight line, he looked like he was thinking that maybe he had made a mistake of asking.

You were about to say something like "Don't worry about it, lunch sounds fine" or even "Well, since you've already made the trip we can", but the manager that had dismissed you about ten minutes ago was standing at the end of your lane. She cleared her throat obnoxiously as if to say "Get your ass moving." You took the hint and hurried away, leaving him with a quiet, "Yeah, sure, I'll be out in a minute."

\----

Lunch was peaceful, like any other time he was around. The only difference was, was that you two had an hour to kill before returning to either work or the drive back to the city to get ready for his classes. You both stayed quiet for a while, the sandwich you had brought with you was almost half gone. He had evidently brought some very, very hot boiling water in some sort of thermos for his noodles. Guess he had been pretty confident you weren't going to turn him down for lunch.

The little area for employees was empty, so you had decided it would be okay to drag him over there. It wasn't too cold, the sun was out enough to warm the air, the breeze sometimes made you shiver but you had your jacket on so it was fine. He was quiet, like usual. He would look up at a sound every now and again, but he didn't look at you. You didn't look at him. It felt a little strange, really. You only knew each other in passing, on a whim. Sure, that whim turned into an everyday thing, but you still only rarely said more than hello and goodbye. A fleeting moment everyday. They were comfortable moments though. But why had he asked you to eat with him? You could barely say his name, Japanese was not a language you prided yourself in being able to speak well. He obviously knew your's, it was plastered cheaply on a little clip-on badge. You didn't know very much about him other than he was studying advanced agriculture, and some sort of environmental science. His best friend from Tokyo had transferred recently, the loud redhead that kind of reminded you of a lizard man you'd seen in a sci-fi movie your mom had you watch with her. His name was really long, he had played volleyball in high school, he liked udon noodles A LOT.

He didn't know much about you, you made a conscious decision to not let customers know a lot about you. It was less bothersome, though a couple of the older regulars like to ask about your mom, if you had a boyfriend or girlfriend yet. You usually gave them a no to that one, cause you didn't. Your constant anxiety and crazy hours didn't really lend to having a love life. Maybe once, he had asked you if you liked living out here. He seemed interested when you said yes, even more so when you said the farms were nice around here. That was when he mentioned his agricultural studies. But other than that, he only knew your name and that you like animals. Not much else over came up.

So why the impromptu lunch? While you were trying to work it out in your head, you hardly noticed him say anything. Until he tapped on your hand, giving you a start, nearly dropping your sandwich in the process. He hit a laugh behind his hand, but his eye were oddly steeled. "What happened to your hands?"

"Hmm?" You glanced down at your hands,wondering what he meant. They were the same as any other day-- Oh, no, that's right. They weren't. The skin by the nails were angry and pink or dry and cracked. some of them had half pulled off scabs, some were just cracked from the cold weather and lack of moisture in the air. You chewed on your lip, wondering how to answer. 'I have crippling anxiety and currently running on zero sleep so my hands are my victims today' probably wasn't a good answer. You settled for a weak smile and a wave at the air, "Ah, you know, it's nothing." Good job, idiot, he'd really fall for that.

The scowl he gave you was evident that it didn't. He set his chopsticks he'd brought with him in the near empty bowl and shoveled it aside to rest next to his bag with the candy canes in it. Then, your hands were snagged away from your sandwich and pulled over the table, the motion nearly bringing you with it. God, he was strong! But you waved it away to take in the weird expression he wore. It was like he was angry, and only got angrier as he scrutinized your fingers. You wanted to say something, but decided it was better to stay quiet for now. He spent a couple minutes flipping your hands different ways, this was silly! What was he- "You do this to yourself?"

Oh. Oh, well. How had he figured that out? Did he somehow find dead skin under your freshly bitten off nails, another nervous habit of yours, and deduce it was from the scrapes and dried blood under the half pulled off skin on your fingers? What the hell was he? You didn't know what to say, so you opted for a weak yes, trying to pull your hands away. He was stronger by a goddamn country mile. "Hey, come on, let go." You laughed weakly, tugging at your hands again. He wasn't budging. "Look, what about it? Yeah, I did that to my own hands, what else do you want to know? Why do even care?"

You thought, for sure, pulling the hostile card like usual when people decide they wanted to know what you considered too much would be enough to get him to release your hands, let you eat the rest of your sandwich, and sulk back inside. You evidently know him at all, because he wasn't letting go. He had really warm hands, at least, so your very, very cold ones weren't cold anymore. They were also huge, but hell the guy was over six foot tall and built like a mountain. Since he wasn't going to let go any time soon it seemed, you sagged your shoulders and resigned to just staring right back at him.

His skin was really nice, tan but not super dark. Sort of a soft brown. His eyes were a warm shade of golden brown that matched well against his short olive hair. They were sharp, and currently looked like they were burning with a fire behind them. You internally snorted at the fact that he was a very brown man, but said brown giant was now moving so you followed him with your eyes. He had moved your hands into one of his, goddamn how were his hands THAT big?! His now free hand was in the plastic shopping bag, pulling out the pack of candy canes. Okay, now you were lost. He managed to poke a hole into the flimsy film covering the striped candies and pulled one out. It was a regular candy cane, nothing particularly special about it, so you simply scowled and stared at it, then at him.

It was in your hands now, he had moved his hand to your wrists so that you could hold onto it. You blinked slowly at the plastic wrapped candy, not really sure what to make of the gesture. Should you say thank you? You settled for something much stupider, as usual. "Uhm, we aren't really supposed to accept things from customers..." You immediately kicked yourself, but at least he found it amusing, a tiny smile quirking at his lips. He had a nice smile.

"Then, think of it as a gift from a friend, to make you feel a little better." He was actually smiling now, he had placed his other hand back over top of your's. Surely he was smiling at the dark shade of red covering your cheeks, but you couldn't help but smile back a little, laughing even though nothing was really funny about the situation.

"A friend? I can't even pronounce that ridiculously long name of your's how are we friends?"

You slowly found yourself screaming inside, the amused look he was giving you was enough to fully crush any anxiety you might have had prowling around at your stupid attempts at talking. "Maybe not, but we can work on that. Here, let's try it now." He was now fully facing you, leaning against his elbows, which you dumbly found yourself mirroring. His mouth was moving slowly, and you kind of felt like a child learning to talk for the first time with the, although necessary, silly syllable annunciation. A part of you secretly liked hearing him talk like that, it was oddly out of place with his mountainous, rugged looks. He repeated it slowly once more before giving you a tiny grin. "Your turn."

Now you really felt foolish, but you are determined to nail this. His name was far too long, and had too many syllables, but you tried your little American born heart out. "U-shi-ji-ma.. Wa-ka-to-shi?"

He practically busted out laughing because you had actually done it, and you felt incredibly stupid. Your grip on the poor candy cane in your hand was a bit much as you felt your face heat up again, lip push into a childish pout, hands pull away from his weakened grip. He had a nice laugh, at least. You went to stand, but he reached forward, hand ghosting over yours which gave you a reason to look back at him. He was wiping away a couple stray tears, but he was smiling all the same. "You did it perfectly, I'm sorry about that." You huffed, but returned the smile.

When you glanced at your phone, it was ten til three, so you both said a quick goodbye, exchanged a couple of jabs at each other as Ushijima walked you back over to building. It was refreshing, not having to be in silence around him anymore. You waved goodbye once more, the candy cane in your hand still gripped rather tightly, but you sighed in a sort of relief. Your anxiety was gone. The itching in your hands, gone. The fake smile you then gave the rest of your customers that day was more real than it had ever been. The candy cane was tucked into your pocket, it gave you a reason to wonder just a bit more.

How did he know they were your favorite?

\----

The next day was stupid busy. It was a Friday, so of course it was busy anyways, but with Christmas being about a month out, the people were flooding in like a hurricane. You felt overwhelmed, like always, but your hands were steadier and you had gotten a fair amount of sleep last night. You didn't have to work too late today either, apparent your boss had some mercy to him. Still, the line was never less than three people at a time. You'd get one order done and the line would shift, only to have the very end filled once more with another heaping cart of stuff. You hated the holidays.

You were supposed to get off at one. You had told your mom you'd visit tonight once you got off of work, but you considered calling her on your break to tell her you might not be able to. You weren't known for your outstanding stamina, and this was wearing you down faster than cheap pencil lead on sandpaper. Your break came and went, you decided it wasn't fair to your mom to break your promise. So you fought your way through the lines of people hour after hour, before finally making it to one o'clock.

You nearly ran from the register after your last customer. You needed some air, the whole store was full of people, you didn't like being crowded, you had been crammed into your little register space, people not taking account to the fact that they were very obviously invading that space. You needed to go, now. So you threw your earbuds into your ears, cranked whatever song came on to full blast until it hurt your ears, and shoveled your way through the human flood, out the doors, and to your car at the end of the parking lot. When you went to start it, however, the thing outright refused. What little response you did get every other click was a groan and series of whining spins of the starter. Well, that was just dandy. You practically ripped your phone out of your pocket and texted your mom that you would be late to see her tonight, your car was effectively dead and you would need to get it towed. She offered you a ride, but she wasn't feeling too great, so you declined.

You sighed heavily, arms draped over the steering wheel, your head landing with a loud thud against the leather. Oh, wait, that was the horn. The loud honk sent you reeling, the earbuds painfully yanking from your ears. There were lots of choice words being shouted in that car. Once you finally calmed yourself down enough to breathe evenly, you stepped out of the car and leaned with your back against the driver's door. A few seconds to find the towing garage's number, you pressed the little green phone icon and held it to your ear. The conversation was short, and when you hung up, you tapped the phone against your forehead slowly. Slow turned to slowly painful, your thoughts were keeping your hands from having any restraint. You weren't fully aware of your own rising anger until you nearly threw your phone into the asphalt after assaulting your forehead with the thing, leaving a dark red mark in the center of it.

The only thing that kept your phone from certain demise was a warm hand wrapping around your wrist. A very large, warm hand. It scared the hell out of you, but you were secretly grateful, that phone cost far too much money to be destroyed. You sighed, looking over your shoulder at none other than Ushijima, who was holding your hand far too high above your head. He was staring it again. Was that like, his thing? Did he just really like hands? "I see you haven't picked at them since yesterday."

"Oh, uh, yeah. Guess not."

"Do you feel better?"

"I never said I felt bad?"

Ushijima gave you a look, a look that sort of reminded you of the one's your mom used to give you when you told her you were fine after crying for a long time in the bathroom so she wouldn't have to see. One that made you feel stupid, but safe, like it was okay to cry, tear your skin, when you felt anxious or nervous or like the world hated you for about an hour. You couldn't combat that look, so you just sighed, slipped your now free hand and phone back into your pocket, and rubbed the back of your neck. "Yeah, I feel better, thanks..."

He didn't say anything, just nodded and stood next to you, a couple feet away. He had a bag in his hand already. It was only a little passed one, and he had come from the parking lot facing the road, not the store. Did he really just pull up and immediately save your phone from destruction? You would have to thank him later. He didn't ask about why you had an angry red mark on your forehead, but he did question the tow truck slowing down in front of your car. You moved away from the car and jabbed a thumb at it with a small "'s dead" and he nodded, pushing off of the hood. You both watched the truck leave. Thank god the garage wasn't far from your place.

"So how are you getting home?" Ushijima gave you a sideways glance as you both walked toward the store again. You were chewing on your lip, he was apparently watching. "Stop chewing on your lip, it'll bleed at that rate."

"Shut up, you giant." You gave him a small shove, not that it even did anything. It was like trying to shove a mountain. "I dunno, might call a cab or somethin'. Uber is a thing, my boss drives for them, though I don't really wanna pay that prick for a ten minute ride to my mom's house."

He raised an eyebrow at the look of distaste you felt cross your face as you reentered the store. It was still swarming with people, and you suddenly felt suffocated again, like the crowd was going to swallow you whole if they even touched you once. Your heart started to beat harder, you felt your thumb scratch at your palm almost unconsciously. This was too stressful to even look at. Until, that was, a warm hand wrapped around yours again, pushing your thumb away from your now slightly raw palm. The heat from Ushijima's hand eased the itching feeling under your skin, managed to let you breath a little easier somehow. He started to walk again and you had to nearly sprint to keep up. Even though it was unbelievably crowded, it was like he was parting the Red Sea and you were trying your best to keep up with his extremely long strides. He headed for what he usually bought, briefly asked if you wanted anything, and when you said no, he simply started back toward the front.

You were actually afraid to let go of his hand. Surely, if you did, you be swallowed whole. His hand was wrapped so tightly around yours though, you sorely doubted you could let go if you wanted to. You briefly thought about how nice it was, not having to be in a constant state of panic while moving through a crowd. This was safe, Ushijima was safe. You didn't really feel like letting his hand go, but when you got outside the store, he released your hand and you suddenly felt silly for briefly thinking more into it. He looked down at you and repeated his previous question. "How are you getting home?"

You raised an eyebrow, thought about saying something smart, but bit your tongue. You shouldn't be so rude. "I don't know. Mom can't really drive. I can grab a ride from someone here, maybe."

"Maybe?"

Your face contorted a bit. You weren't really good friends with anyone at work, your one good friend worked nights so she was probably either asleep or not in the mood to pick you up right now. The managers up front were nice, but you didn't really want to hog a ride off of them. Plus, most of them smoked. Nasty. Now that you thought about it, you didn't have a ride. Shit. "I'll figure it out-"

"I can give you a ride."

"What." You looked up at the man, face slightly more blank than you'd have liked. His face, on the other hand, was red. He wasn't looking at you now, his hands either shoved in his pockets or rubbing at his neck. You don't think you've ever seen this before. No, you KNOW you've never seen this before. Big, strong Ushijima Wakatoshi was refusing to make any sort of eye contact, face redder than a goddamn tomato. You even moved to walk in front him, make him look at you, but his face turned away. You felt yourself stare, and ask him again.

"I can give you a ride, if you want. I don't have classes tonight, so it's not really a big deal..."

You blinked, took a solid minute to process, and then literally jumped onto him hugging him around the neck, managing to ignore the alarmed stares from customers. Ushijima stumbled a bit, but managed to catch you and decided to lean down enough to let your feet touch the ground. "Man, Waka, you're the best!"

"W-Waka?"

"I'm not trying to say that goddamn tongue twister again so now you're Waka."

"...Can I change my mind."

You smacked him in the arm. "Waka!"

\----

The ride to your mom's house was short, ten minutes down the highway. Even Ushijima could figure it out. You told him to wait outside while you went to tell your mom what was going on. She was peeking out the door, the noisy old woman. You rolled your eyes, but walked inside. The air inside was warm and reminded you of a time long passed. You had decided to move out when your aunt bought your mom a new house for the plot of land, but the old skank had mentioned no 'house guests'. You did it for your mom, you visited every chance you got. She was all you had ever had.

"Who's in the car?" She was sitting in front of the tv, a glass of tea in her hands. You'd grabbed a water, plopped on the couch, and gazed over at the same old judge show she always had on.

"A friend." You took a sip of water, letting it cool you down, relax your dry throat.

"Just a friend?"

You looked over at your mom. She was watching the tv, but not really. She did that when she was trying not to be obvious, not that it ever worked. "Yes, mom. He's actually a customer, comes in almost everyday. We talked over lunch yesterday. He's a nice guy."

She snorted, causing you to frown. "He seems very nice, especially if he's capable of putting up with you."

You made an offended sound, causing her to laugh. You could help but smile. Your mom didn't laugh much anymore, she usually didn't feel well enough to tend to the animals she had. You tried to come by and help, but when you worked so late sometimes, you couldn't make it and she often had to do everything herself. You would text her to make sure she was okay, it wasn't the same. But seeing her laugh was enough.

You didn't spend long, you helped her with her chores, kissed her goodbye, and promised to visit soon. She walked you to Ushijima's car, smiling at the male in the driver's seat while you climbed into the passenger's seat. He gave her a polite smile and bowed his head. She gave you a look, you rolled your eyes. You kissed her on the cheek and she gave Ushijima a look that made your cheeks burn red. "You take care of my baby, okay?"

You were even more mortified when Ushijima smiled and said, "I wouldn't think anything other than to."

\----

Your house wasn't too far from your mom's, but it was a solid twenty minute drive. You rode in peace save for telling Ushijima were to turn. It was nice, but you couldn't help but think about what he said. You were sure it was nothing, but it picked at you, like you were absently picking at your fingers. You almost didn't feel it until there was something sticky under your nail. Oh, that was blood, wasn't it? You were bleeding, and Ushijima hadn't noticed yet. Good, maybe you could hide it.

When he drove up to your apartment complex and put the car into park, you said a quick thank you and went to open the door, but a hand stopped you. You swallowed around the lump in your throat and gave a weak yes in question. You decided to sit fully in the passenger seat when he didn't say anything. It was like that for a while. He eventually reached into the back seat, fished around for a bit, and pulled out the box from yesterday. The candy canes. You looked down at them, then back up at Ushijima. He pulled one out, and held it out. You wanted to take it, but your fingers were mostly bloody, and you didn't want to alarm him, you also didn't want to offend him by not take it. So you sat there in silence. For what seemed like forever. You felt tears prick at the corner of your eyes. How selfish could you be? This stranger, essentially, had treated you like a friend. Had just drove you home from your damn mother's house. And you had torn your fingers to shreds thinking about something stupid like him liking you? How much worse could you get.

Ushijima hadn't said anything, moved at all, until a tear wiggled it's way out of your eye. He was fast, setting the box of candy canes down, grabbing your hands and lacing his fingers between your own. You winced a light when he touched the raw and torn skin, but just sat there. You didn't have the strength, or the right, to pull away. You sat there, and watched. And nearly choked to death.

He didn't look at you, but he took one hand and brought it toward himself. He moved carefully, making sure to keep from touching the sores, new or old, but when he stopped, he leaned his head down and placed a small kiss on your hand. One, two, soon he was pressing his lips to whatever part of it that was covered in blood. A kiss on each finger, the still raw scratch marks on your palm. When he was done with one, he started on the other hand, treating it the same way. And all you could do was sit there and sob. You had given up on trying to swallow them back. You hated crying in front of anyone else, you were an ugly crier. Ushijima didn't seem to care. When he pulled away from you hands, he moved to wipe at the tear streaks running down your cheeks, staring right into your eyes. Your breath hitched, but you tried to smile, pulling your hands toward yourself. Neither of you said anything when you went inside the complex. He walked you inside, to your door, stood outside as you unlocked it and shuffled inside. You gave him a weak smile, to which he gently returned. He pulled you into a brief hug, then said a quiet good night.

When you walked inside, you sighed, patted your pocket to find your phone, but felt a smile tug at your lips when you felt something else there. You shuffled into the kitchen, emptying your pockets before heading toward the bathroom to wash up. You took the extra time, though, to set the second candy cane over top of the one you'd received yesterday on the table. Part of you looked forward to the day off tomorrow. Maybe you could drop by work at one o'clock. Just for shits and giggles.

And Waka, of course.

**Author's Note:**

> petitioning to call Ushijima, Waka forever


End file.
